


three am massages

by rileyhart



Series: I Love You. So Much. [6]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, Late Season 2, post B/L wedding pre det dave majors, these sleep deprived idiots are way to into each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 21:36:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17753912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rileyhart/pseuds/rileyhart
Summary: it's been a long night, and amy's neck is killing her.





	three am massages

**Author's Note:**

> this is also based on a tumblr prompt! kinda random but cute! enjoy x

It’s close to one in the morning and Amy Santiago has conked out at her desk. 

Jake hears a thud and looks up to the desk opposite his; Amy, after fighting it, has succumbed to sleep, her head face down on her desk.

Jake’s eyes linger on her, an affectionate smile on his face. They’d been working themselves dead to the bone these last few days, desperately trying to close an old drug case. They’d finally done it, which only left the paperwork. Three hours ago Amy had been excited by this prospect. “It can be a challenge, Jake,” she’d said, “we’ll try finish it all before midnight.”

“Impossible.” He’d replied bluntly.

“Nuh-uh!”

“ _Orrr_ , we could bail now and do it tomorrow?” Jake suggested, raising his eyebrows hopefully.

“We’ve spent weeks on this case,” Amy said, her shoulders sagging, “I just want it to be over.”

That, Jake could understand. “Okay,” he agreed, “let’s do this.”

Amy had smiled gleefully, and squeezed his shoulder excitedly.

Jake can’t believe that that was the same person as the practically comatose woman across from him.

He gets up and carefully lifts her head off the paperwork, replacing it with the NYPD hoodie she keeps in one of her drawers as a makeshift pillow.

He brushes some of the hair out of her face, before feeling suddenly creepy and quickly shuffling back to his desk before anybody says anything.

He adds Amy’s stack of paperwork to his, and lets out an audible groan at its size. He leans back in his chair and bends his head back far enough to look at the elevator upside down. He considers just leaving and going home, but then he sits up and looks at the asleep Amy, and picks his pen back up.

* * *

It’s past three in the morning and Amy Santiago wakes up at her desk, her hoodie somehow under her head.

She sits up sleepily, rubbing her eyes, immediately feeling a shooting pain up the back of her neck. “Fuck,” she whispers, reaching behind her to gently massage it.

“Oh you’re awake,” comes a voice, and Amy turns to see Jake strolling over to her, another spike of pain shooting down her neck.

“How long was I asleep for?” Amy asks him dozily.

“Uh, about two hours,” he replies, sitting down opposite her at his desk.

“Oh, the paperwork,” she moans, “I wanted to get it done before tomorrow.”

“I did it,” Jake tells her, putting his feet on his desk and leaning back in his chair.

“You did it all?” She says in amazement.

“Yep, just finished like ten minutes ago. It was incredibly boring.”

Amy smiles at him. “Thank you,” she says sincerely, and he smiles and gives her the slightest of nods in return; their eyes lingering on each other a little longer than they should.

“I guess we can go home now,” Amy says, gulping and looking away.

“Ahh, home, haven’t been there in years,” Jake says whimsically, and Amy snorts.

They both stand up, Amy screwing her face up with pain and rubbing her neck.

“You okay?” Jake asks her.

“Yeah, I just slept on my neck weirdly and now it’s killing me. I’m probably going to have to get a massage, which I really don’t have the time for.” She mutters, swinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Oh that sucks, I probably should’ve woken you up,” Jake replies as they both head to the elevator.

“It’s okay, I’ll just have to-” she pauses to move stretch her neck from side to side “-squeeze it in this Friday.”

“I could give you one if you want.” Jake suggests offhand.

Amy looks at him. “What?”

“I just mean... I could give you a massage? If you, y'know, want.” Jake says hesitantly.

“Uhh, I don’t know,” Amy says unconvinced.

“I used to give my mom massages when I was younger,” Jake explains, “she says I’m pretty good, y’know, big hands.” He gestures awkwardly.

“Uh, yeah, okay, why not?” Amy says. “It’ll save me an hour and fifty dollars."

“C’mon, let’s do it in the meeting room,” Jake motions with his head in its direction.

Jake sits on one of the tables and pulls one of the chairs in front him.

“ _Sit, my… client,_ ” he says in a deep British voice, feeling suddenly awkward and highly aware that he is about to touching Amy for a good amount of time.

“Ooo no,” Amy says shaking her head.

“Not into it?” 

“Definitely not,”

“Okay, just, uh, sit down,” he attempts to say it without sounding too bossy but feels as if he failed as soon as the words come out of his mouth.

She sits down and he begins to massage her neck, which is thankfully more normal than he thought it would be (though he does note how much he likes the feel of Amy’s skin under his hands).

Jake wasn’t lying, he  _is_  good at this, and thanks to her sleep deprived mind (or at least that is what she blames) unburdened thoughts of what else Jake would be able to do with those hands enter her mind.

“Is that okay?” Jake asks her, after almost a minute of silence, dragging her out of her imagination.

“Mmm, what? Yeah, it’s, uh, good. You’re good at this,” Amy replies, thankful he can’t see her reddened face.

Jake smiles. “Thanks. Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yeah, a couple more minutes,” Amy replies, closing her eyes and leaning in to it.

One of the night shift beat cops walks past the meeting room and stops. “Oh, Detective Peralta, I was going to ask-” he stops short as he looks from Jake to Amy. “Uh, you know what, I’ll just ask you later.”

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s nothing weird, I was just giving Santiago a massage, which sounds kinda weird but-”

“But it’s not.” Amy finishes for him, scooting her chair away from him slightly, feeling as if they’d been caught doing something inappropriate.

She stands up, and picks up her bag (her neck actually feeling better). “I should, um, probably head home, anyway.” She turns to Jake and gives him an awkward nod. “Thanks, Peralta, I’ll see you tomorrow, or today, I guess.”

It’s only when she gets into her car does she realise it must've been Jake who put her head on her hoodie, and she can't help but smile at this.

**Author's Note:**

> comments much appreciated!


End file.
